


Not A Big Deal

by koalathebear



Series: Pitch Missing Scenes: Conversations Unsaid [3]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: Set at the end of Pitch 1.05: Alfonzo Guzman-Chavez.  My thoughts on the episode are here.





	

Ginny listens as Amelia uses what Ginny's come to know as her serious voice. She keeps her face deliberately blank and uncommunicative as her agent speaks, her tone studiedly casual but her eyes sharp and watchful. There's nothing soft about Amelia, she's all angles, hard edges and ambition. Even in repose, her gaze is incisive and acerbic, her smile tight and deliberate.

_I just wanted to let you know that Mike Lawson and I have been seeing each other. Just for a few weeks._

Ginny's not sure why but Amelia's revelation is like a sudden blow to the stomach, winding her. Now isn't the time to even try to process what's making her feel like _this_.

"Oh. Um. Ok," she manages to reply. Amelia says something else, her immaculately made up face watchful and alert but Ginny can barely hear her voice. She's pleased when she's also able to say,"Yeah sure, it's your personal life. It's your business. If you're happy, I'm happy."

Amelia looks relieved and uncertain at the same time. "It's not a big deal but I didn't want you to find out from anybody else," she explains, finding herself babbling despite herself. There's something about the expression in Ginny's eyes that throws her off, makes her keep talking when the sensible part of herself is saying: "Shut up."

"Sure. I gotta get dressed for the game," Ginny replies, putting an end to the conversation as she walks away from her agent.

Her cell phone rings. She looks down. It's Mike. She doesn't answer, her thumb moving over the 'decline' icon to reject the call.

*

Ginny has her legs pulled up on the sofa, her arms wrapped around them tightly as she listens to the second of three voicemail messages. They're all along the same lines.

"Hey Ginny … just wanted to see if you wanted to get some extra practice in tomorrow night …" Lawson's voice is deliberately casual but with each message, he sounds a little more urgent.

"Hey Ginny … pick up, ok? Just checking in on you … "

He's a friend. A team-mate. Nothing more than that. She's got no right to be jealous, angry or even the slightest bit resentful. 

She tries to figure out why she feels like … _this_ … Is it the fact that Lawson and Amelia have been lying to her all these weeks? Playing her for a fool? Making it look like they barely know one another …

It explains all the times when they seem to be standing near one another by pure coincidence … the way they move apart as she approaches … 

She got over her old childhood crush years ago so it's definitely not that. Maybe it's the fact that Lawson's been _her_ mentor … _her_ friend .. the guy who phones her late at night and talks with her until the wee small hours of the morning … making her laugh, comforting her after a shit game …bolstering her spirits when she doubts herself … She's got Blip, but he's got Evelyn and the kids … Lawson had seemed like her - alone and adrift in the world. Another solitary soul - her confidant … 

Amelia's lover …

She reaches out her hand and deletes the three voice mail messages. Then she picks up her backpack and pulls out her wallet, rifling through until she finds what she's looking for. Half a dozen baseball cards. Encased in plastic sleeves, almost in pristine condition.

Mike Lawson. Number 36.

She tips the cards out of their sleeves and then with fingers that are almost completely steady, she rips out the first card, then the second, then the third …

She holds the last baseball card in her hands… staring down almost blindly at the tiny bits of shredded cardboard on the ground. She remembers lining up for hours … using all her powers of persuasion to convince Jeremy Chernov to swap the card with her … Her fingertips trace over the black marker on the card. She remembers lining up even longer for the autograph. 

_"What's your name kid?"_

_"Ginny. Ginny Baker."_

Her fingertip traces the bold lines of Mike's signature. Swearing slightly, she slides the card back into the plastic sleeve and shoves it back into her wallet and then picks up the shredded baseball cards in her hands.

Her cell rings. It's Mike. She presses decline again, watches it go to voicemail and tells herself that it's no big deal …

**fin**


End file.
